* * *
42’55” N, 70’85” W
Gulls pick at empty shells, scattered.
Sailboats sit on sand, anchors down.
A black cardigan harbors her shoulders.
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwNew England is too cold.
Lifted in my palms, a hermit crab
peeks out to catch her shimmer.
She stares back through dark glasses.
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwWhere is your favorite place?
Before I can answer, a bird dies
in the tide. I too subside, fantasizing
of fully waterproof feathers. Or maybe
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwI don’t understand at all.
We leave soaked, silent—heads draped
with dusk. Salt stuck behind her ear.
* * *
seagulls wwgather. wwplovers
gather. igeese igather. icloudy
day. some sun. an old woman
walks ian iold dog. cold water.
a little wind. i sit alone. i talk
to imy isister ion the phone. i
stand to ikick ia soccer ball up
a iwslope iwof iwsand. wbrine.
smashed shells. a small, white
crab. iseaweed. ishe itells tme
about iwhat iit’s ilike ito be by
herself. ti listen. tthe ball gets
stuck. da dgull dcries. di dturn
around. iit ifloats, ia crab in its
mouth. iten ifeet. itwenty feet.
the wibird wdrops wthe wcrab,
hovers tback tdown. tten tfeet.
thirty wfeet. wiagain. wifragile
creature wifalling. wwhitecaps
farther tout. tblue. wthe wbird
returns ito ithe shoal, rises yet
again. wtwenty wfeet. iforty. ii
don’t tknow tif tthe tcrab rjust
isn’t idead, or won’t come iout
of its carapace.
* * *
Livia Meneghin is a current MFA candidate and writing instructor at Emerson College. She is the author of the chapbook Honey in My Hair. Her individual poems and reviews are published or forthcoming in The Academy of American Poets, tenderness lit, The Rockvale Review, CALYX Journal, So to Speak: A Feminist Journal, Whale Road Review, and elsewhere.
featured photo courtesy of the author